âThereâs a beast hidden within this?â
  A warm smile spread across Voloâs face, along with a dull ache in his jaw and cheekbones: before this day, it had been so very long since heâd used those muscles. His new friendâs skepticism was heartening, for Volo had once heard many of Jubilifeâs villagers whispering similar things. Many of the clanspeople, too, had said much worse things.
âWhy, yes! Any PokĂŠmon - no matter how big they are - can become small enough to fit inside a PokĂŠ Ball.â
  Volo knew nothing of Kariâs people, but perhaps they held the same sleepy potential for change - for better and for worse. Such changes always happened slowly, exception by exception, one little loophole at a time. It seemed they, too, were already taking steps in that direction, even if it were only for a single species.
  Volo had intended to ask why, but his question got no further than that single word, for he could not let go of what the girl had uttered just before that. It had taken a moment or two to sink in, but the more he considered her words, the more his smile faded, until it had been fully replaced by a troubled frown.
  (Frowning hurts less than smiling, he noted in the back of his mind. He was sure that the reverse used to be true.)
âAnd so we try and purge them from the forests around our villageâŚâ
  To Voloâs knowledge, the people of Jubilife Village had never gone to those extremes. If this town had such systems in place, would they not wonder with narrowed eyes at a story of a girl being attacked by a huge and unfamiliar beast that seemed to come from nowhere?
  Volo did not have sight of his Garchomp at all hours of the day, and though heâd tried to keep a low profile once heâd realised he was in the vicinity of a settlement, he could not prevent the dragon from hunting now and again. It would have been unfair. Cruel, even. With any luck, Garchomp may have made a mark in the woods over the last few days. Some footprints here, a discarded bone or two there -
  Would they have let a young girl go wandering alone, if that were the case?
  The structures that marked the townâs boundary drew nearer.
  To Kari, it may have seemed that Volo had slowed down for her sake - perhaps, too, for the sake of letting her grow accustomed to the sight of the PokĂŠ Ball in his hand. But, to Voloâs eyes, it seemed as though he was standing still, while the town rushed towards him at terrifying speed. He saw the towers as much taller than they truly were, taller than the watchtowers at Jubilife Village. Though it was daylight, in some glances he imagined he could see torches aflame and in motion.
  He thought of those first few weeks after the confrontation with Akari, and the time heâd spent avoiding the eyes of similar watchtowers, begging at the side of wagon-worn dirt-tracks for scraps of food and information from his former guildmates, always - always - ready to run -
âFather has decided that they are far too dangerous.â
  Her father, then, must have been one of the townâs leaders. What would he think, to see his daughter being led home by a strange, unkempt man who wielded such beasts? And was there mud upon her clothing? Was she hurt at all? Volo did not dare to look, much less to ask, but he inhaled loudly at the thought.
  Kariâs question about the inhabitant of the cross-marked capsule would go unanswered, for Volo did not hear it. Nor did he notice the girl extending her hand towards that which she so feared. He would have greatly appreciated her curiosity, applauded and encouraged her bravery, had his head not been filled with angry roars, the sound of his own heartbeat, and those same words that sheâd spoken -
 âAnd so we try and purge them from the forests around our village for the safety of the children and womenâŚâ
  Voloâs jaw threatened to chatter, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes; if he blinked too many times, they would surely fall. He had been allowing his PokĂŠmon to roam in these woods, with and without him, blissfully unaware that the people who lived nearby were so hostile. What would he have done, if something had befallen any of his dear companions? A people who lived in such ignorance and fear - would they know the difference between a ferocious PokĂŠmon and a docile one? A wild PokĂŠmon and a trained one?
 What are the Starly kept for, then? Theyâre hardly a plentiful food source. A good species for children to raise, yes, but if nobody is raising PokĂŠmon hereâŚ
  Volo quickly slipped Togekissâ ball back into the safety of his satchel. His other handâs grip tightened momentarily on the basketâs handle, knuckles losing their colour as he tried to imagine that he was holding his sanity together within that clenched fist. Â
  âOh, young ladyâŚ?â
  He called to her, as though he had forgotten that she was right beside him, no longer lingering a few steps behind as she had been at first. His voice was thin and strained, like a rope pulled too taut. His footsteps, which had been gradually becoming heavier and slower, now ground to a halt.
  âIâve enjoyed your company, and Iâm glad to see you safe, but I fear I cannot accompany you any further. As you have surely seen - though you are too polite to remark upon it - Iâm a man of the wilderness. For years, PokĂŠmon - the beasts that your father considers so dangerous - have been my only kin. Perhaps I have more in common with them, now, than with any human beings! With that in mind, I do not wish to cause any alarm to your people.â
  Volo held Kariâs basket towards her and loosened his grip upon it, so that the handle merely rested upon the curve of his trembling fingers, ready to be reclaimed. As he looked down upon her for what he thought may be the last time - there really is some resemblance, even if itâs not much - a few tears broke free from his eyelashes. They might have been invisible, had they not streaked their way through the thin layer of grime upon his face. Even so, and though it hurt, he forced another smile.
âPlease give your father my best wishes, and my assurance that I will leave this place at once.â
-She wandered in tow, beside and eventually before; and it was upon her heel of which little Kari eventually turned. Stood now between him and the end of the world â or, perhaps more accurately, himself and the life that set them apart.
If sheâd been looking for an answer to her query, then it was something that sheâd have to stomach going without. For Volo hid the hardened shell from her sight, deep once more within his heavy satchel of further miraculous beasts; and when he spoke to her, she felt as though heâd mingled with that of birds chipper.
She did not understand him.
The smell of the shore, down past rolling hills of spring bloom, permeated the air with its salty, vicious stench â and had she not grown used to it from the years spent upon the land, then perhaps she wouldâve blamed it as the source for her knotting insides. The ache that welled within her breast.
 Young lady, he called her, and only then did she realize that neither of them knew the others true name. He was Lukas, yet not Lukas, and she? She was nobody at all to him. Before he could finish his spiel, his grandiose justification for his (if sheâd only known) cowardice, Kari countered his judgement with her own.-
âNo,â-she opposed, a shake to her head of which resembled that of toddler-esque theatrics.- âNo, I see nothing of you thatâs beastly or monstrous. Wielder or not. Passerine or bird of prey, you have a decent heart within you.
-Here, she would plead. Reaching to grasp his limp hand rather than the basket so kindly offered. âPlease,â-oh, such heartache in that one word.- âIf you must take your leave, at least allow me to-â
-Further down her own self-righteous spiel, however, she did not come. For a man bellowed into the ether her god given name, her blessing and curse and oh â it was him! Below hills parted by unkempt fields, where a break between the forest and manmade land met â a soil path belting into wood and stone, snaking its way through the earth - men adorned in heavy furs, quivers and bows walked. Amongst them, one who caused her heart to flutter and her eyes to sting with fresh, salty tears.
 Volo, her vagabond, may as well have not existed then. Grasping his hand was something she never ended up doing, for as easily as sheâd reached for him; she now reached for her wear. Her garb was hastily, messily, gathered around her hips â leaving her dirty soles and bruised ankles bare (oh, she would be scolded had she done that any other day!) â before, by a twist of her feet, Kari raced down the honey speckled hills. Midst the men, fjälljägare, as they were so affectionately called, were a man whom was notably un-brutish. Clad in silky garbs unbefitting the soiled outdoors, slicked back locks the color of unblemished skies; he, you see, had been the one to have called out her name.
Kari passed the array of men in her descent â who continued on towards the foreigner in their midst â, her hasty travels blurred by unshed tears, and Damianâs clad knees met the soil just as she tumbled into his awaiting embrace. By the force of gravity, she almost toppled them over; so ferociously did she wish to be within her surrogate fatherâs warm embrace after having suffered through such a frightening ordeal. Death had, after all, come knocking upon her door but minutes prior â had it not been for âNot Lukasâ, that was.-
âFather,â-the girl-child wetly sobbed, the bridge of her nose pressed against his throat as he, trembling, cradled the back of her skull so desperately he feared he may break her tender neck. A poor fledgling, she would be if it was so. Soot stained his cheeks, marred into his skin; just like the men who, further up the hill, met Volo.- âOh, father⌠I- Iâve been so afraid!â
-(A large hand set itself upon Voloâs broad shoulder alongside a question of his state.
âNo weeping, boy. It doesnât suit you. Now, tell us your name.â)-
-What followed was a display unlike any other. For like the father he was, he tutted at her like a babe. Hushed and cradled her within his embrace until she calmed before, methodically, unraveling her from himself. Gently, he cupped her flustered cheeks â plump and full with youth still. Then, without a word more, he delivered a tremendous backhand cut that caught her smack on her hard little cheekbone.
 And then, the remorse, the poignant sweetness of sobbing atonement. Damian hissed in her ear that he had feared so deeply for her life â that he had spoken to Marnie, that thoughtless woman, and learned of her lonesome travels beyond their village gates. By her admission, her tearful relief and admission of fear â he deemed that he had been right to worry.
âWhat has happened to you,â-he asked, kissing her cheek and wiping grime from her tender brow.- âYouâre dirty and have no herbs to speak of, tell me nothing but the truth.â
-Kari held on to his wrists through it all.- âA beast,â-she voiced, raw and through fresh tears.- âA beast unlike any other, father. I- The fjälljägare must have missed it last they were out, I still have no idea what it was but it was horrid and foul and oh, fatherâŚâ
âA beast?â-Damian pressed, shaking her lightly to keep her attentive. To not let her get lost in sorrow, in her need for comfort. He would give it, proper, in time. But not when there supposedly was harm within those woods still.- âThere are no beasts left, Ivarr reported a clean purge but last week and-â
âThere was!â-Rarely did the young girl raise her voice, least of all towards him, but⌠Today? Today, she did. Within his grasp, Kari pried herself; until she could stretch out the length of her arm.
His icy gaze followed and met a sight most perplexing.-
âHe knows,â-Kari pleaded.-âHe saw it too and he⌠Father, he protected me. He helped.â
-The chirping of an outsider amongst the people. No engagement, but a lingering presence. The young women who had seen him were growing weary, father.-
âHe caught the beast!â
-And, certainly, Damian had seen the outsider before. A foreigner without purpose in their midst who had, somehow, helped his little girl when sheâd needed it the most.
 Why, was an answer of which he could not guess himself towards. Therefore, when the vagabond met his gaze â an ocean of gagea lutea between them â Damian reached out.-
In a short, consistent gestures, he beckoned the young man forth.-
-Godâs right-hand man wishes to speak with you, Volo.-